San-Cravate; or, The Messengers; Little Streams Part 99

"This woman evidently carries a large part of her stock in trade about with her."

"Good-day, Putiphar!"

"Hail, Madame Putiphar!"

"Sit down, Putiphar. When I wrote you to come, I didn't know that Monsieur Dodichet, a commission merchant in sugar, would treat Boulotte and me to this impromptu feast of champagne and truffles mixed, this morning.--But that doesn't make any difference; for you're in no hurry, I take it?"

The corpulent dame replied by repeated courtesies, accompanied by loving glances at the table, mumbling:

"Oh! mesdames, don't let me disturb you at all! It smells good here, and I'm in no hurry; I'll watch you eat."

"Won't you take a gla.s.s of champagne with us, madame?"

"Oh! monsieur is very polite----"

"Accept, Putiphar, accept; n.o.body ever refuses a gla.s.s of champagne!"

"I am tempted----"

"With a biscuit in it, eh?"

"I should prefer, if it's all the same to you, the chicken wing I see on that dish."

"That's all right. Draw up to the table.--Manette, a plate for Madame Putiphar.--Will you have some pate de foie gras too?"

"You tempt me--but, really, I am ashamed of myself. Monsieur will think I'm a great glutton."

"That's not a failing, madame; it's a good quality."

Madame Putiphar took her place at the table, stuffed herself with chicken, pate, and truffles, partook freely of claret, madeira, and champagne, and never paused for breath until the dessert was being brought on. Then she wiped her mouth, saying:

"A very pretty little feast; monsieur knows how to treat the ladies."

"Oh! Dodichet's very polite," said Boulotte; "he's eaten up a lot of money with women."

"Mon Dieu! mesdames, what is the good of money, if not to give you pleasure?"

"Ah! what a sweet sentiment! Monsieur deserves to be embalmed."

"What's that! embalmed?"

"I meant to say, turned into a statuette."

"Unfortunately, you've become very rare lately, Dodichet," said Rosa; "we hardly ever see you."

"It isn't my fault! I am not my own master since my intimate friend Count Miflores came to Paris."

"Oh, yes! that Sicilian, who's so rich!"

"He doesn't know the amount of his fortune."

"Is he a relation of yours?"

"No; but I rendered him an important service in Sicily; he was on the point of falling into a volcano; did you know there were volcanoes in Sicily?"

"Yes, mountains that spit fire; I saw one in a play, at La Gaiete."

"My Sicilian, who is very inquisitive and very brave, had ascended Mount aetna, and was looking into the mouth of the crater; suddenly he dropped his cane, and it fell into the fiery gulf. Count Miflores thought a great deal of that cane, which he had inherited from his mother; he was going down into the crater to try to recover it, which would have been to go to certain destruction! Luckily, I was there--with my dog, a magnificent Newfoundland. I pointed to the hole, and to the cane, of which we could see one end, and said: 'Go, seek! go, seek!'--My dog understood me; he rushed down into the crater, and soon returned with the cane between his teeth and laid it at my feet. I gave it to the count, who was overjoyed, and who swore everlasting friends.h.i.+p to me from that day."

"Ah! the brave count! no, I mean the brave dog! You ought to have given him a good dinner when you got home!"

"Alas! the poor beast never got home; after a minute or two, he fell dead at my feet; he was roasted, the heat of the crater had cooked him!"

"Oh! what an idea! And still he brought back the cane, roasted as he was?"

"His devotion sustained him.--But it seems to me, mesdames, that it is high time to attack this nougat and water it with a little alicante."

"Yes, yes; let's attack it and water it!--Take some nougat, Putiphar."

"You tempt me. I would make a fool of myself for this alicante!"

"What has your Sicilian come to Paris for?"

"In the first place, to see this wonderful city, which everybody aspires to know, and which no one ever wants to leave when he has once tasted its joys. Secondly, the devil of a fellow has a curious whimsey in his head: he wants to marry."

"You call that a whimsey, monsieur? why, it's a most prevalent idea."

"Look here, you'd better not talk against marriage before Putiphar, Dodichet; she'll never forgive you."

"Oh! I'll forgive monsieur for anything--he treats the ladies so handsomely; but I would like to convert him."

"Mon Dieu! madame, although I am not thinking of marriage for myself, I a.s.sure you that I have no wish to disgust others with it; and the proof is that I'm looking for a wife for my rich Sicilian."

"A wife? You're looking for a wife for him, monsieur? Oh! in that case--I beg your pardon, a sip of alicante, if you please--I may have what you want."

"Faith! madame, if you can find me somebody suited to my friend, you would give me great pleasure; for I haven't much time to give to it. I have more orders for sugar than I can handle; I am obliged to neglect my business, and I don't like it."

"I must ask you one important question first of all, monsieur: is your count rich?"

"I think I have already told you that he doesn't know the amount of his fortune."

"Then I suppose he wants his wife to be rich, too?"

"Not at all; he cares nothing at all for money; he has enough for two."

"Really! he won't ask for any dowry?"

"A dowry! why, if the woman's father should be so ill-advised as to mention such a thing, he would be quite capable of knocking him down! He would consider it an insult."